


Constant, Perpetual Motion

by idoltina



Series: Prompt Fills: Once Upon a Time [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:13:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8424916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idoltina/pseuds/idoltina
Summary: Prompt fill for swan queen + changes. AU. As Emma faces the prospect of bearing an entirely new responsibility, she retreats to a quiet place to reflect on her relationship with Regina and what the future might hold. And while she tries to figure out how to cope with her anxiety surrounding impending change, Emma finds that maybe the better route is to not have to go it alone.





	

Very rarely does Emma Swan get anxious -- or at least, very rarely does she _allow_ herself to be anxious. For her, anxiety is coupled with fear of thinking about the unknown -- about the future. It’s why she constantly strives to live her life in the present, refuses to look back on her choices with regret and doesn’t plan more than a few immediate steps ahead. It’s been almost freeing, in a way, to look at her future and see options. Meals have been quick and easy and satisfying to her immediate cravings. Plans with friends or flings are almost always spontaneous, a quick and gratifying pull from quiet into bustle. Her work develops familiarity, in specific cases, but it’s never the same twice in a row, the details always a little different, and it allows for the ebb and flow of a fluctuating sleep schedule.

All of that -- or parts of it, anyway -- had changed when she’d met Regina.

Regina Mills is a planner. She prepares meals hours in advance. Her job is classic nine-to-five, organized files and stacks of paper, red tape and bureaucracy and political correctness. She over-coordinates with people and color-codes her Filofax, sets multiple alarms and keeps a tidy home. She starts every project early, always has a card for a special occasion and something on hand in case of an emergency. She’s a soccer mom without the kids -- not yet, anyway -- and she is everything that Emma Swan is not.

Emma figures that makes them some version of opposites attracting, in a way, and really, that’s what had attracted her to Regina in the first place in the university library. She’d seen Regina as a challenge, someone she could soften around the edges and get to relax a little. And she had -- she still does -- but Emma hadn’t really been prepared for the way Regina’s nature would cut through most of her defenses. For every way that Regina relaxes and melts at Emma’s gentle prodding, Emma finds herself seeking out Regina to center herself, to be anchored in the here and now when she finds herself adrift in her lack of structure.

That part of her wishes that Regina was here with her now, but being with Regina lately has been… difficult. It’s like living in constant perpetual motion, trapped in the planning for a future that doesn’t exist yet. And it’s -- it’s never really been like that, not with _them_. It hadn’t been like this when they’d moved into together or gotten engaged, not even when they’d up and eloped (especially not then). For them, their relationship is a safety from structure -- too much or not enough -- but all of that is changing.

This is her choice -- Emma _knows_ that, knows that if she expressed a lack of desire to move forward with this, Regina would back off immediately. Regina loves her enough to give this up, and Emma loves her enough to try -- particularly because Regina _can’t_. But Regina is _stressed_ in planning for this. The house is littered with books and research, their calendar cluttered with appointments and their kitchen stocked with supplies. The moments that Emma has to herself -- unburdened with the responsibility she’s taken up and Regina’s over-preparing -- are far and few between these days, and she has to carve out pockets of time and space to give herself time to think and breathe.

But when she’s alone, like now, anxiety settles in her lungs like a sickness, and Emma finds that she can hardly breathe at all.

It’s why she’s taken up residence in the only empty room in the house today, why she’s settled on the floor and forcing herself to take deep breaths as she waits her anxiety out. This -- these could be her last moments of waiting, of planning and and preparing and marching along to the beat of someone else’s drum. It won’t be the last round of them, to be sure, but they’ll be different, and that, Emma thinks, she can handle. The hard part of this will be over, at least, because there’s only so much that Regina can plan after a certain point, and their future will look the same.

When Emma looks down at her hands, the _yes_ she sees sparks an entirely different type of fear.

And still, somehow, she smiles.

She barely has half a moment to sit with it before Regina appears in the doorway (it’s like she has radar for these sorts of things; it gets a little annoying sometimes). “Hey,” Regina greets. She wants to cross the threshold into the room, Emma can tell, wants to hover and help and fix whatever’s wrong. Emma knows Regina well enough to read the signs: the way Regina’s eyes sweep over her; the way her fingers flex anxiously against the door frame; the way she bites her lip in apprehension. But it’s a testament to how much Regina must be picking up on _Emma’s_ anxiety that she’s staying where she is, lingering in the doorway, and the _yes_ in her hands and her body beats like a metronome heart keeping time.

Emma _loves_ Regina, and together, they are the family that neither of them ever really had.

Emma can _do this_.

Emma quirks her mouth into a half-smile, her voice still a little lost to her in the wake of the news, but she holds the stick in her hand up all the same to clue Regina in. Something shifts in Regina at that; Emma can see it in the way stress fills Regina’s lungs and drawing lines of tension in her shoulders. “I thought you didn’t want to take another one for a few weeks,” Regina offers, clearly holding back.

“I changed my mind,” Emma says with a shrug, and that, at least, feels really good, to still be able to make decisions on a whim. It’s the most in her skin she’s felt in awhile.

Regina softens a bit at that, understanding dawning in her eyes, and any hesitation she had is gone as she crosses the threshold into the empty bedroom and sinks down on her knees in front of Emma. She’s the picture of pristine beauty like this, her skirt all smooth lines as her heels dig into the carpet, and as her hand settles comfortingly at Emma’s knee, Emma can’t help but smile at the thought of how _good_ Regina is going to be at this.

Regina takes a minute to collect herself before speaking. “We knew there were no guarantees going into this,” she says, and it’s as much of a consolation for herself as it is for Emma. And that’s when Emma realizes that Regina’s interpreted the situation all wrong, and where there should be joy, there’s disappointment. “But we can wait a little while and try again, or we can look into other options --”

“I think you’re jumping the gun here,” Emma says bemusedly, unable to tamp down a smile. “I think we should deal with the first one before we make any other plans.”

“The first one?” Regina echoes, brow knit and nose wrinkled in clear confusion. Her eyes fall to the stick that Emma holds up for display in front of her, widening once she reads the result. " _Positive_ ,” she breathes, hand tightening on Emma’s knee. “That’s the first --”

“The third, actually,” Emma corrects, barely biting back a laugh when Regina’s eyes snap back to hers, incredulity apparent. “I wanted to be sure.”

Regina’s eyes clear at that, any vestiges of anxiety or stress or fear that come with planning and preparing and waiting gone. It’s the most present that Regina’s looked in _months_ , and _oh_ , _there_ Regina is. This -- _this_ is the woman Emma fell in love with, the woman who keeps her anchored and creates a safe space to exist as she is in her skin. This is the woman Emma married, and this is the woman Emma said yes to, the woman Emma wants to give the world.

Now, she can.

“You’re pregnant,” Regina says wetly, half-laughing in her incredulity that this is finally happening. “You’re -- _Emma_ ,” she breathes, leaning in closer and curling her hand around to the back of Emma’s neck. _Emma_ again, reverent and awestruck, and the tenderness of Regina’s lips against her own sparks a fevered fire in Emma’s veins. And maybe -- maybe part of that is hormones at play, but Regina’s kiss feels like waking up a ghost. This -- _this_ is the way Emma has wanted this whole long, arduous process to feel. She’d agreed to try her hand at getting pregnant because Regina wasn’t able to, because Regina wanted a child _desperately_ , and Emma had wanted to make her happy.

Regina is happy, now, deliriously so, and something inside of Emma settles.

Maybe Emma can be good at this, too.

The test is on the floor and Regina is _crying_ , tears spilling onto the apples of Emma’s cheeks and sliding down until she tastes salt. Regina must be able to taste it, too, because she pulls away and sniffs, voice wet and thick in her apology. “Sorry,” she murmurs, resting her forehead against Emma’s. “I just --”

“Don’t apologize,” Emma murmurs back, leaning in for another kiss. “Just… love me,” she says, reclining until her back hits the floor, Regina going with pull. Regina’s hands are too tentative, gentle and unsure as she settles awkwardly on top of Emma, and _that_ , Emma won’t stand for. She refuses to be treated like glass. So it’s with rough, deft fingers that she shoves Regina’s skirt up as much as she can and gropes at her ass, desperate to cling to the way she feels right now. Regina inhales sharply, hips bucking involuntarily, and Emma uses her her grip on Regina to pull her closer. “Love me,” Emma demands, breath a ghost across Regina’s lips, “and that’ll be enough.”


End file.
